


Strain

by varethane



Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Krimzon Guard, That's basically what this is, and then everyone has hot chocolate, dark jak - Freeform, fits loosely into the Jak 2 timeline, metal-heads, there's a headcanon about too much dark eco messing jak up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 20:51:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3148196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/varethane/pseuds/varethane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turns out too much dark eco has a detrimental effect on Jak's ability to keep himself together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strain

**Author's Note:**

> Amusing note, over the course of writing this, I would up getting a cold myself (after giving one to Jak). I blame the fic.
> 
> Related: one little headcanon I have is that while green eco heals all kinds of grievous physical damage, it doesn't do much for viruses and infections, which have to be treated in other ways or waited out.

It was pre-dawn in Dead Town, and the air was thick with fog rising off the surface of the stagnant water. For the most part, all was as still as the grave… except for a turbulent patch close to the ruined tower.

Jak spun round and kicked a metalhead into the wall behind him, firing twice into the small knot of others trying to approach him from the front before using the butt of the gun to strike at the creature he’d slammed into the wall moments before. Another three shots and it was done, the corpses sinking to the ground around him.

Dark eco welled up, moving along the ground as it swirled towards his feet as though drawn by a lazy magnet; tiny bolts of violet lightning flicked out to touch his ankles. No matter how much of the stuff he absorbed, it seemed there was always room for more. Jak ignored it, re-holstering his morph gun, and then abruptly jerked forward in a sneeze.

‘Yech!’ Daxter commented as Jak rubbed a gloved hand under his nose. ‘Buddy, we have got to find you some tissues or something, cuz that’s just unsanitary.’

Jak shrugged, sniffed once, and then started walking.

‘Bet if we asked Torn he’d let us in on the underground’s stash,’ said Daxter, as they approached  the entrance to get back into Haven city proper. ‘Guy owes us a few favours by now-- specially cuz you probably caught it doing something for him.’ For the last couple of weeks there’d been a cold going around the Underground, if not the whole city; Torn himself had somehow remained unaffected, his immune system apparently as impenetrable as his sense of humour. Tess had been left with a stubborn, lingering cough, and Daxter had commiserated with her over the bar and learned about the epidemic.

‘Maybe,’ said Jak, curtly, and Daxter frowned. His best friend had been in a foul mood all day; maybe not unusual considering the extra irritation of the cold, but Jak had taken worse things in stride.

‘C’mon buddy, whassamatter?’ he said, darting round to Jak’s other shoulder to peer at his face as the big door to Haven City clanked its way open. ‘Someone spit in your yakkow milk this morning?’

‘I’m fine,’ said Jak; he appeared to realize a moment later how emphatically he’d said it, and he sighed, raising a hand to rub at his forehead. ‘...Sorry, Dax. I guess I’m tired. And I just don’t feel… right.’

‘Well of course not you big lug,’ said Daxter, and whacked him on the ear. ‘You’ve got that cold from hell!’

‘It’s not--’

‘If it could get through all the defenses in that thick skull of yours, it’s gotta be some sorta turbo-charged superbug,’ said Daxter, flexing a spindly forearm for effect and lowering his own voice to a growl. Jak smirked despite himself, and Daxter’s ears twitched up a little higher, encouraged. ‘So maybe it’s time to lay low for a bit. You know, take a little R and R.’

Jak made a vague, pensive noise, stepped through the door, and jumped up to street level. The first zoomer to swoop by overhead was a KG bike, and the faint smile Daxter had managed to coax onto Jak’s face vanished without a trace as the boy tracked the red bike with his gaze. Daxter sighed and flopped down onto his perch. Once, it was rare that the big guy spent more than a couple of hours unhappy; now it seemed like that was his default state. He usually stayed cheered up a little longer than this though.

Jak waited until the bike was nearly around the corner up ahead and then jumped up to grab another zoomer overhead. The sky over the slums went from grey-pink to green and finally to a pale blue as they flew, the fog clearing to reveal a sunny day, but the tranquility above had little effect on the turbulent city below.

They were headed for the underground hideout; having cleaned out Dead Town of all the metalhead scouts they could find, it was time to report back to Torn. Chances were high they’d immediately be assigned another mission, but Daxter had every intention of trying to convince old gravel-breath to give them a bit of a break before sending them out on the next mission. Jak might protest, but Daxter could hear him trying to stifle the beginnings of a cough, and he had no intention of letting his friend run himself any further into the ground if he could help it.

Less than halfway there, they began to catch up to a traffic bottleneck at a particular corner of the slums-- the flow of zoomers nearly always slowed there, as larger vehicles had difficulty navigating the tight space. Jak hit the accelerator, starting to shoulder his way past the line of zoomers backed up there-- and then braked abruptly, so quickly that Daxter was nearly thrown off his perch.

A KG hellcat cruiser had just muscled its way through in the opposite direction; that was what the others had been waiting for. As soon as it was clear of the corner, it picked up speed again, and one of its fins dealt a solid ramming blow to Jak’s zoomer as it passed, throwing them into the wall and spinning them partway around.

‘Nincompoops!’ Daxter yelled after them, jumping up onto the handlebars of the bike to shake a tiny fist at the hellcat’s retreating bulk. ‘Jackasses! Watch where you’re going for once!’

Jak hadn’t started the zoomer again. Daxter turned towards him, and immediately jumped-- Jak was bent low over the handlebars, his eyes pitch-black and narrowed to slits, and… was he growling faintly? A small spark of dark eco leaped from one of his hands onto the handlebars, and Daxter thought he might have a heart attack then and there.

‘Jak!’ he hissed, clutching at his friend’s scarf. ‘Jak put that away, someone’s going to see--!’

Jak blinked at the touch, straightening, and the moment passed. ‘Dax? Sorry, I… I don’t know what...’

‘Let’s get moving,’ Daxter interrupted him, still looking around-- there was no telling when another KG might come by. ‘Come on, let’s get you to someplace quiet already.’

Looking embarrassed, Jak started up the zoomer again, turning it back in the proper direction; he drove more slowly now, following the traffic patterns of other zoomers instead of forcing his way through-- rather more cautious than was normal. Perhaps he was rattled by the close call earlier.

Well I hope so, thought Daxter, frowning ahead at the streets. What WAS that? In the weeks since Daxter had broken Jak out of prison, he’d seemed to have a pretty good handle on tall, dark and gruesome overall. Definitely enough to not have episodes like that over something as trivial as road rage, anyway. Actually come to think of it, it had been awhile since Jak had transformed at all…

Daxter kept sneaking glances of him through the rest of the ride-- Jak must have noticed, but didn’t say anything. They made it to the hideout without further incident, though, and Jak headed down the stairs with only a little trepidation.

As usual, Torn was bowed over the map on his desk as they entered, marking out some points with a compass and a pen; he didn’t so much as look up as they approached.

‘We took out the scouts in Dead Town,’ said Jak.

‘Great,’ Torn drawled. ‘Your trophy’s in the mail.’

Jak and Daxter exchanged sideways glances with one another.

‘Ohhkay,’ said Daxter. ‘I can see you’re real busy now, so we’ll just go...’

‘Hold on,’ said Torn, clicking shut the compass. ‘As a matter of fact there is something you can do.’

‘Stop, stop!’ said Daxter, waving his arms in the air. ‘I’m calling a time out! If it’s not a matter of life or death, we’re not going anywhere. Jak needs to get some beauty sleep.’

Torn frowned at them from behind the desk, and Jak shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot under the scrutiny. After a moment he sniffed, and rubbed a hand across his nose.

‘...Oh yeah,’ added Daxter. ‘We also need in on your tissue stash. Jak caught the crud that’s been going around.’ He rubbed a hand over his chin. ‘Could probably stand to do some laundry, too.’

Torn sighed and ran a hand over his face, closing his eyes briefly. ‘Fine. Rest up; there’s plenty of toilet paper in the bathroom, so help yourselves.’

Jak nodded and turned away ‘Toilet paper?!’ said Daxter indignantly, clambering around Jak’s shoulder to spread his hands in Torn’s direction. ‘Heathen! Sheesh...’

‘It’s fine, Dax,’ said Jak quietly. He smiled faintly as the ottsel flopped down onto his shoulder with a faint huff of outrage.

A little over half an hour later Jak had showered, eaten some of the communal food that had been left in the kitchen, and made his way to the zoomer in the garage that had become his unofficial sleeping spot. Dax had fetched him a blanket from somewhere, and Jak curled up with it, leaving the roll of paper he’d grabbed from the bathroom sitting on the trunk within easy reach. Between the pounding headache and the strange, feverish restlessness that had been plaguing him all day, Jak wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep-- but with Daxter snoozing softly by his neck, within minutes it grew difficult to keep his eyes open.

\--

The feeling that something was awry woke him again. Disoriented, Jak sat upright immediately, earning a sleepy reproach from Daxter.

The garage was still quiet, other than the faint sounds of distant machinery and voices. Jak coughed, rubbing at his eyes, and stood up.

‘G’back t’sleep, Jak,’ Daxter mumbled, trying to grab at Jak’s elbow. Jak ignored him and stepped out of the zoomer; its lurch back into its original position after his weight had left it finally woke Daxter fully, and the ottsel jumped out to follow Jak towards the door.

Torn was definitely agitated about something. Despite the closed door, his scratchy voice could just be heard.

‘-- long can you hold out? We’ll find a way to get you out of there.’

A tinny voice replied, obviously coming from Torn’s radio. ‘Depends how long it takes them to find us-- s-some of them have come pretty close. Could be hours… or f-five minutes ago.’ A crackling noise that might have been a shaky laugh. ‘Sorry, Chief.’

‘Sit tight,’ said Torn. ‘Help is on the way.’

Jak pushed open the door at the same time Torn clicked the communicator off. Torn looked over at him, any surprise masked by his habitual deadpan expression.

‘I hope you’re feeling better,’ said Torn; the question might have been one of concern, but with his usual scratchy drawl it still somehow sounded sarcastic.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Jak in response.

‘Two of my agents were bringing a shipment of supplies in through Haven Forest.’ Torn frowned at the radio on the desk, and then leaned forwards to mark something on his map. ‘They were ambushed by metalheads. They managed to get away, but now they’re trapped in their hiding place with no ammunition.’ The frown deepened as he made another small note and then looked back up at Jak. ‘And just in case things needed to get any more complicated, the attack made enough noise that the KG are bound to send a team of their own to investigate.’

‘So you need someone to go in and get them out before that,’ said Jak, lowering the hand that he’d been using to surreptitiously rub at his face.

Torn nodded, tilting his head slightly as he watched Jak through narrowed eyes. ‘Good guess.’ He paused. ‘Are you up for it?’

‘Aww, are you worried about him?’ said Daxter, hopping back to his usual spot on Jak’s shoulder. ‘He’s worried about you, Jak!’

‘Shut up, rat!’ growled Torn. ‘I won’t jeopardize my agents by sending someone in who won’t be able to do the job.’

‘I can do it,’ said Jak. ‘In and out, right?’

‘We need those supplies, and I’d prefer to keep as many of my agents alive as possible,’ said Torn. ‘Radio in if you need backup, all right?’

Daxter elbowed Jak’s hair softly. ‘He IS worried!’ Jak’s eyebrows had risen slightly; an offer for backup was a rare thing. He couldn’t even think of who Torn might send. In reply, though, he just nodded and turned away.

Torn watched as the pair returned to the garage to retrieve the rest of their gear, then looked back down at his map in silent contemplation. He hadn’t wanted to send Jak-- the kid was still pale and drawn with exhaustion, the shadows around his eyes a little deeper than usual. But the truth was there was no one else.

\--

The cold at least was largely unchanged; Jak had been a little worried that the cough might get worse and compromise his ability to stay unnoticed if he needed to, but instead the most frustrating factor was still the headache. If it got much worse, the pain alone was going to ground him; he kept seeing odd, distorted flickers at the corners of his vision, which were growing harder to ignore.

Just this mission, though, and then he’d let Daxter have his way and get some rest. He could still hold his own against a lousy bunch of metalheads.

Reaching the forest and switching to the hoverboard, he set about looking for signs of metalheads, or of the ambushed team. It seemed the attack had taken place pretty deep in the woods, because it was several minutes before he started to find tracks, and a few more before he spotted his first metal-head of the evening.

Of course, you never found just one of the things; after he’d dispatched the first with a couple of shots from the Blaster, it wasn’t long before he found two more close together-- and then four more after that, and so on. For the most part Jak picked them off from a distance, not allowing any to get too close; even the minimal exertion of aiming and firing the Blaster was making him start to cough, and the coughing was intensifying the headache as effectively as a small series of explosions directly behind his eyes. He didn’t especially want to attempt hand-to-hand right now.

Twenty-something skull-gems and a good deal of hoverboarding later, he walked through the dissolving bodies of the last pair of metal-heads to fall to his gun in order to check out the cave behind them; Dax moved sideways on his shoulder as a crackle of dark eco arced almost all the way up his arm, nearly singing his fur. ‘Whoa! Watch it, Jak,’ he said.

‘Sorry, Dax,’ Jak murmured, and then stopped: within the cave, half-hidden in shadows and behind a boulder, was what looked like the end of a zoomer transport.

He walked in, frowning as the eye-strain from trying to adjust to the sudden darkness increased the headache still further. Definitely a vehicle… was this the lost team?

He turned a corner around the boulder and stopped short as the business end of a pistol thrust directly towards his nose.

‘F-friend, or foe?’ said a quiet voice, coming from the other end.

Jak stared past the barrel at the grim, wide-eyed face wielding it. The woman looked terrified, but still determined. ‘Torn sent us,’ he said. ‘Are you with the Underground?’

‘Yes,’ she said hesitantly. ‘We were attacked--’

‘By metal-heads, yeah,’ said Jak, deciding to ignore the pistol and continue walking to look over the transport. After a moment of indecision the woman lowered it, uncocked it, and thrust it through her belt in order to hurry after him. ‘Does this transport still work?’ he asked her.

‘Yeah-- Bel is waiting inside,’ she said. ‘We’re all out of ammunition, though, and our shields are used up; we wouldn’t stand a chance against the metal-heads like this.’ She paused, biting her lip. ‘Or the KG, once they show up. It’s just a matter of time.’

‘There’s no ammunition in the shipment you were transporting?’

‘No-- it’s all parts, no ammunition or eco.’ For a brief moment, annoyance won out over fear in her expression. ‘We should really talk to our supplier about that.’

‘Is there enough fuel to get out?’

‘Should be, yeah,’ she said. She looked out towards the opening of the cave; the light outside was going orange as it slanted through the trees, dusk approaching rapidly. ‘We’d just need protection from the metal-heads, or we wouldn’t survive long enough to make it back into the city.’

Jak hefted the blaster, the gun’s yellow eco glimmering faintly in the gloom around the cartridge. ‘I could cover you on the way out.’

‘Should probably go soon though,’ said Daxter, who’d also been staring out at the trees. ‘If the Krimzon Guard show up it’ll make our job ten times harder.’ After a moment he spread his arms wide. ‘Twenty times!’

‘R-right! Yes,’ said the woman. ‘I’ll let Bel know. You can come on board.’

Jak followed her to the vehicle; it was a fairly large transport, with a deep cargo hold and a platform directly behind the cockpit which would provide an ideal vantage point for Jak to snipe incoming enemies (although not a lot in the way of cover). Jak jumped up into it and stood near the edge, running a hand along the railing and pressing a foot into the ground before giving a small nod. Then suddenly his hand tightened on the rail as he bent over for a dry, hacking coughing fit.

The woman spoke quietly to the man sitting in the cockpit, and then opened the door that let out onto the platform. ‘We’re ready to go whenever you are.’

‘I’m ready,’ said Jak, straightening up and looking over. His voice was a little raspy from coughing, and the woman lingered in the entry for a moment, visible only in silhouette.

‘...You okay?’

‘He’s just got the cold that’s going around,’ said Daxter, leaning an elbow on the top of Jak’s head. ‘The whole Underground musta had it too by now.’

‘Oh yeah… I remember hearing about that,’ said the woman. ‘We’ve been out of the city a lot lately though, so I guess we’ve missed it so far.’

‘Oh?’ Daxter’s ears perked forwards, but she was already heading back into the cabin. A moment later, the transport’s engines revved up and the vehicle slowly lifted up, sidling gently towards the cave entrance.

Jak raised the gun again, perfectly still as he waited while they moved out into the pinkish glow of twilight over Haven Forest.

A movement in the bushes to their left-- no sooner had the darkness of the metal-head’s silhouette become visible than Jak was firing, taking it out before it could clear the tree-line. In that time, though, three more had come into view; Jak was kept busy on the platform, turning and firing again and again to take out the attackers with mechanical precision.

Daxter had jumped up to the top of his head and was shouting whenever a new one appeared outside of Jak’s immediate line of vision. Meanwhile, Bel piloted the transport as quickly as he dared towards the wall-- it was not a very maneouverable vehicle, and took a long time to get around obstacles.

Suddenly, the transport swerved behind a rock and stopped. Jak stumbled against the railing, not having expected the motion, and tried to stifle another cough behind his hand.

‘Aw, no, not these bastards again,’ Daxter groaned from beside his ear, and Jak turned, immediately spotting what the Underground team had seen-- a troop of Krimzon Guard armed vehicles, flying over the wall and into the forest.

The woman leaned out the door. ‘We’ve got to stay out of their view,’ she said, in a low, urgent voice. ‘If we wait til they pass they might not notice us-- what’s wrong?’

Jak dragged in a deep breath, clenching his teeth as he stared up at the KG vehicles-- and then suddenly he doubled over, clutching at his head. The blaster clattered to the ground.

‘Oh no! Jak, c’mon buddy, this isn’t the time--’ Daxter was babbling, trying to climb around to look his friend in the face, but a moment later Jak swung an arm outward and Dax was thrown away from him, catching hold of the railing just in time to keep himself from being tossed off the transport altogether.

Dark eco tendrils flickered out and licked at the corrugated metal beneath Jak’s feet as he snarled and straightened up, looking around with pitch-black eyes.

‘Th-that’s… that’s not a cold,’ said the woman faintly, taking a step back in the doorway as the icy gaze moved towards her.

‘Lara?’ said a man’s voice from behind her in the cockpit-- Bel, alarmed, had started out of his seat. ‘What’s going on?’

At the sound of the new voice, Jak spun towards the cabin, claws outstretched-- Lara screamed and shoved Bel backwards, and then screamed again as the claws raked across her shoulder, drawing blood even in a glancing blow. She kicked at the ground as she scrambled backwards, pushing herself and Bel the rest of the way through the door and then kicking it shut as well

‘St-stay in there, I’ll take care of this!’ said Daxter, running along the railing on all fours towards the cabin to look in for a moment. ‘He’s uhh… he’s not having a great day so far.’

The pair stared back up at him, Lara clutching at her bleeding shoulder wordlessly, and Daxter turned around again.

Even in his dark form, Jak was not looking too hot-- he was breathing raggedly, dark eyes ringed with shadows, and his steps as he moved towards the cabin were uneven. None of this was especially comforting, though, considering the power that Daxter knew lurked at his fingertips-- if Jak took it into his mind to use the Dark Bomb here…!

Daxter took a deep breath. ‘Jak! Hey buddy, can you hear me in there? I know if you keep this up you’re gonna regret this later-- so if maybe you could just-- whoops!’

A hand swung out at him and he jumped, hastily, landing on Jak’s forearm and running up quickly to dodge to the other side of Jak’s head as his taller friend brought up his other arm to try to catch him. Daxter now had full access to Jak’s ears, though, and he didn’t hesitate to get up close and bellow directly into them, in his best imitation of Samos’ voice.

‘Snap out of it or you’ll be cleaning floors for a month!’

Jak recoiled from the shout, stumbling sideways and landing against the rail. He clung to it for a moment and then groaned, doubling over and clutching at his head again; Daxter watched with some relief as the claws and horns visibly retracted, and colour flooded back into the stark-white hair.

‘There we go, buddy,’ he said, patting Jak’s head in what he hoped was an encouraging manner. ‘Good to have you back.’

‘Daxter…?’ Jak whispered, beginning to shake as he pulled his hands away from his face.

‘It’s okay, big guy,’ said Daxter. ‘But… please, warn a fella if you’re gonna do that again.’

‘I didn’t want to,’ said Jak, his words halting and wavery. His fingers had left smears of Lara’s blood on his goggles, and a spot on his forehead. ‘But I couldn’t… couldn’t s-stop…’

His words broke off in a gag, and he clapped a hand over his mouth before spinning round to vomit over the railing. Daxter grimaced, stepping backwards, and rubbed awkwardly at his friend’s back as he looked anxiously around.

The metal-heads seemed to have vanished right around the same time they’d spotted the KG troops, which was great; the KG were also now completely out of view, which was also great. Less luckily, they were still a fair distance away from the exit, and Jak had just wounded one of the people they were supposed to be here to protect.

Jak seemed to have finished heaving, but didn’t seem to be in any hurry to move; Daxter left him draped over the railing and headed towards the cabin.

Bel was tying off a bandage around Lara’s shoulder; there was an empty tin of green eco on the floor, but apparently the small amount hadn’t been enough to fully stop the bleeding as there were still traces of red against the white fabric. Daxter winced, looking down from the window, and then raised a hand in greeting.

‘Uhhh… hey,’ he said awkwardly.

Lara made to stand up, but Bel pulled at her arm to keep her down. ‘What’s going on out there?’ she asked. ‘Is it safe? What the hell WAS that?’

‘Ah… he’s got some, uh, anger issues at the moment, towards the KG,’ said Daxter. ‘Amplified by dark eco.’ He glanced back towards Jak, who had finally gotten off the railing and was instead sitting with his back leaning against it, both hands pressed against his forehead. Not a promising sign. Daxter turned back towards the others and gave a small shrugging gesture. ‘He’s cooled off for the time being though-- and we should probably get going again. We’re kinda out in the open here.’

Lara and Bel exchanged a glance with one another, and then finally both stood up.

‘Any sign of more metal-heads?’ asked Lara, moving towards the window as Bel seated himself again in the pilot’s chair.

‘Nada,’ said Daxter. ‘But… hold on, in case they do...’

He headed towards Jak, who slowly raised his head as the ottsel approached.

‘It’s fine, Jak, it’s cool, it’s just me,’ said Daxter, walking to stand alongside of Jak. ‘I gotta hold onto the gun for awhile though. You can keep sitting, okay? Just… heere we go.’ He picked up the blaster, which had fallen onto the platform when Jak had first transformed, and then jumped up onto the railing to peer back into the cabin.

‘Okay! I got this,’ he said, raising the gun and attempting to project cheerfulness. ‘Daxternator’s got this under control.’

The sliver of Lara’s face he could see through the window looked extremely skeptical, but she turned to face forward again after a moment as Bel started up the transport again. Daxter raised the gun up into position, balancing it on one slim shoulder-- okay, so the thing was larger than he was, but who was she to doubt him? He knew what he was doing!

It seemed as though perhaps the KG presence had been what drove the metal-heads underground, for once the transport had been moving for a few minutes longer the shambling monsters began to make their reappearance. Daxter picked them off from his perch at the top of the railing, glancing down at Jak whenever he had a moment; his taller friend was still sitting in the same position, slumped against the rail.

The ride was probably not all that long, but it seemed to take forever before they were finally entering Haven city, still undetected by the KG and unmolested by metal-heads. Daxter jumped down from the railing with a sigh and folded up the morph gun, walking back towards Jak.

‘We’re back in the city, Jak,’ he said. ‘Everything’s fine, thanks to yours truly-- want your gun back?’

Jak blinked at him, and then slowly sat up. Daxter frowned at his face.

‘Uhh, looks like you’ve got somethin there,’ said Daxter, pointing to his nose.

Mechanically, Jak reached up to touch his own face-- he was half-expecting to find bile, but his fingers came away with blood instead. ‘Huh.’ He raised his arm, about to wipe it away with his glove, but Daxter grabbed at his elbow.

‘Come on Jak, didn’t I tell you before how gross that is? Didn’t you grab any of that tissue stuff back at the hideout? Let’s see here...’

He dove into Jak’s pocket while the other looked on in bemusement; a moment later Daxter resurfaced in triumph with a small wad of toilet paper, which he pressed into Jak’s hand.

‘There. Let no one say I don’t look out for ya, big guy.’ As Jak leaned forward away from the railing to clean up the nosebleed, Daxter scampered around behind him to return the folded-up morph gun to its holster on Jak’s back. ‘Voila.’

The transport soared sedately through the agricultural district. It was well-chosen; it looked like it belonged here, making it unlikely to draw attention. Bel and Lara kept the door shut on the cabin, understandably; Daxter winced when he imagined the reception they were likely to get from Torn, after the near-disaster they’d made of his mission.

But, they would take that as it came. Daxter climbed onto Jak’s leg and looked up at his friend; Jak opened his eyes slowly and looked back, numb and exhausted.

Daxter whistled. ‘Phew, you look a mess. How’re ya feeling?’

Jak looked away, silent, and Daxter reached out to pat his shoulder. ‘I hear ya buddy. Don’t worry, I’ll help explain it to Torn. Old gravel-breath knew you weren’t a hundred percent when he sent us out.’ He paused as Jak’s gaze tracked towards the cabin, sick with guilt. ‘Oh, you remember that?’ Daxter reached up to scratch the back of his head, awkward. ‘She’s gonna be okay. Here, I’ll check on them, you’ll see.’

He jumped back up to the rail and headed towards the cabin. It appeared that Lara had been watching some of the proceedings, because she rolled down the window as he neared, allowing him to stand right on the sill.

‘Sorry about what happened back there,’ he said. ‘How’s your arm?’

She rested a hand lightly on the bandage and flexed the arm in question. ‘I’ll keep it. Who ARE you two? Torn really sent you to help us?’

The skepticism was thick on her tongue as she enunciated ‘you’; they’d thoroughly earned that this time, though, Daxter mused dryly.

‘For what it’s worth, that’s the first time this has happened,’ he said. ‘I’m thinkin it’s cuz he was under the weather-- he’s usually got a real good handle on it.’

‘On that.. that thing?’ said Lara, her gaze skipping towards Jak and then back to Daxter. ‘Well, his ‘handle’ is going to have to get a hell of a lot better in future. We’re working in the margins here-- we can’t afford this kind of thing happening again. It’s incredibly reckless.’

Her voice wasn’t pitched very loud but Daxter could tell Jak had heard it, because he drew his knees up a little higher where he sat.

‘We’re changing vehicles up ahead,’ she added, a few moments later. ‘To something smaller, for the slums. The two of you will have to find your own way back to the hideout.’

‘Gotcha,’ said Daxter, giving her a thumbs-up as the window began to roll back up. Jak had already begun to stand up, one hand over his face and the other on the railing.

‘Looks like we’ll be on our own again in a minute,’ said Daxter. ‘Do you feel up to driving, or do you want me to--’

‘I’ll drive,’ said Jak firmly, taking a deep breath and straightening out his back.

‘You feeling better then?’

Jak shook his head. ‘About...about like before,’ he admitted grimly. ‘But letting you drive won’t help.’

‘Wait, like… before before?’ said Daxter. ‘As in it might happen AGAIN?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Jak, and coughed. Then a moment later, grudgingly, ‘...probably.’

‘Guess the dark eco isn’t going anywhere else,’ said Daxter, then suddenly looked up at Jak just as the other boy’s eyes widened slightly. ‘Hey, do you think… that’s why this has been happening? It’s been awhile since you last went tall, dark and gruesome on purpose...but you kept picking up more of the dark stuff.’

‘You’re right, Dax,’ Jak breathed, staring down at his hands. ‘Maybe I just... need to find a way to get rid of it.’

‘We could go back to Dead Town,’ suggested Daxter, hopping back up onto his shoulder. ‘No bystanders.’ He glanced towards the cabin of the transport. ‘Then after that we’ll deal with Torn. Sound good?’

‘Sounds good,’ said Jak, and held out his arm for Daxter to jump onto. Then without further fanfare he vaulted over the railing, landing in a crouch on the ground below. The transport sailed placidly on without them; if its pilot or remaining passenger were surprised at their unceremonious departure, they didn’t so much as slow down to show it. Probably they were glad to see the backs of the pair.

Jak grabbed the next zoomer that passed and started heading back towards Dead Town. Daxter had to keep biting his lip to keep from making another offer to drive-- Jak’s steering was erratic, and he was going even faster than usual, frequently allowing the rear end of the vehicle to flail out on turns. By the time they were nearing the turnoff, the back fins of their zoomer were dented and the tailpipe was emitting a little too much smoke.

But there was a problem. As the opening to the alleyway came into view, so did red, flashing lights and barricades.

Jak slowed down, eyes widening in disbelief as he stared; Daxter jumped up onto his shoulder.

‘They’ve blocked it off?!’ he said, a little shrill in his sudden panic. ‘What’s the deal?’

There were four guards standing by the barricade in case any pedestrians came too close; without going nearer themselves, Jak and Daxter could still just hear strains of ‘stay back’ and ‘official krimzon guard business’.

Jak gritted his teeth, crouching over the handlebars of the zoomer; Daxter noticed and tugged at his ear.

‘C’mon, buddy, we can’t take em all,’ he said quietly, and gently put one hand on top of Jak’s to get him to start steering away. ‘We’ll find somewhere else.’

Jak’s communicator chose that moment to spark to life.

‘I’ve just heard back from my team,’ said Torn’s voice, made even raspier by the tinny quality of the transmission. ‘Return to the hideout. Now.’ It flicked back off with a burst of static, and Jak and Daxter exchanged wary glances with each other.

‘...Ooorrr we could do that,’ said Daxter. He looked up at Jak, uncertain; his friend’s face was still too pale, and his breathing still hadn’t slowed down from earlier. ‘Jak?’

Jak stopped the zoomer by a wall and rubbed a hand over his face. The entrance to the pumping station was also within the slums and not too far, but what if it had been blocked off as well? Traveling there only to be rebuffed again would eat up time and bring them ever closer to inciting another incident with the guards. Exhausted and ill as he was right now, anything he started with them was unlikely to end in his favour.

He didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes until Daxter’s hand landing lightly on his shoulder made him twitch and open them again.

‘Right, here’s what we can do,’ said the ottsel, flicking the fingers of his other hand out in thought as he paced. ‘We’ll go to the hideout and I’ll deal with Torn. He might be mad...’ Daxter paused, recalling that terse message. ‘...Okay, he IS mad. But he’s gotta have a heart somewhere in that dried-up stick of a body, and maybe if we tell him a bit about what’s going on he’ll be able to help. Could be he’s got another back room or something he’d let us use.’ He turned to face Jak. ‘I’ll handle all the talking so you can just take it easy, okay? We both know I’m best at it anyway.’

Jak failed in his attempt to muster up even a faint smile, but he nodded anyway. Short of allowing himself to transform again within Haven and draw the attention of every guard in the city, it didn’t appear that they had much choice. Daxter jumped up to sit between his hands on the handlebars this time, a slight change from his usual riding position that put him into Jak’s line of sight. He looked back every now and again as Jak fired up the engine again and started riding, heading back to the hideout.

They reached the alley and approached the door-- Jak paused for a long moment, swallowing hard before stepping forward and triggering the sensor. The door slid open, revealing a dark stairway that somehow looked more ominous than before despite being completely unchanged.

Torn must have put his pencil down the second he heard the door activate, because by the time they made it to the bottom of the stairs he was already striding towards them, his angular face set in a scowl.

‘Explanation,’ he said, stopping with his arms folded over his chest. ‘Now.’

For all of Daxter’s earlier confidence, in the face of Torn’s obvious fury he wilted a little on Jak’s shoulder. ‘Well, y’see… we ran into a bit of a problem--’

‘You ran into a problem?’ rasped Torn, apparently so close to explosion himself that he was unable to keep from interrupting. ‘How about my agent, who was expecting that the person I sent to rescue them wouldn’t do more damage than the metalheads?’

Maybe this was a bad idea after all. Daxter could feel Jak’s shoulder shaking through the pauldron, very slightly. He swallowed back the fear-- Jak was counting on him, he couldn’t let him down now-- and straightened up to stare Torn directly in the eye.

‘It happened cuz Jak wasn’t at the top of his game, which you knew before you sent us out! It was an accident and we won’t let it happen again, but right now we need--’

‘That’s not good enough this time, rat,’ said Torn, transferring his gaze to Jak, who had yet to pull his gaze away from some spot on the floor he’d fixed it upon. ‘Maybe before I could take your word on it, but I think it’s past time you two shared some information about yourselves. I don’t want to hear excuses-- if you’re going to be a liability on missions like this in the future I need to know about it, right now, because what happened today was unacceptable.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Jak, speaking hoarsely through clenched teeth. ‘I’ve got to go...’

‘Look, gravel-breath,’ said Daxter, desperation and exasperation combining to raise his voice by another octave as he began to chivvy Jak towards the door, ‘we’ll be happy to hash this out with you a little later but right now we’ve still got a bit of a problem! Jak needs--’

‘You don’t get it, rat,’ said Torn, whose brows had been lowering steadily through all of Daxter’s words. ‘No more waiting. We’re going to talk this out right here.’

He reached out to grab Jak by the shoulder, and that was the point where everything went wrong.

The glow of crackling bolts of dark eco was all the warning Torn got to pull his hand away before Jak spun round, snarling, and leaped at him. Torn’s mouth closed over an undignified yelp as he hurled himself back and to the side, hurriedly getting out of reach of the claws. Daxter clung to the pauldron for dear life, trying to stay close himself.

‘Jak! Jak, stop!’ the ottsel howled, narrowly keeping from being flung off as Jak whirled again to face Torn. ‘Get ahold of yourself!’

‘Rat! Get away from him!’ Torn shouted from behind the desk, where he’d run to put some space between himself and Jak.

‘No!’ said Daxter. ‘I’ve gotta get him to turn back, he usually listens...’

A clawed hand rose towards him and he leaped away, fur bristling all along his spine. ‘...Okay, so maybe not this time… Jak?’

Jak ran again towards Torn, making to leap over the table, but Torn flipped the whole thing up into his face and bolted. Jak batted it away with a clawed hand to send it crashing against the wall, causing the light to swing and flicker wildly, and then he spun again, dark eco tendrils trailing in his wake.

Torn pulled out his knife, earning a yelp from Daxter.

‘No! Torn, he’ll come back, he’s got to--’

‘Shut up, rat!’ Torn snarled, keeping his eyes fixed on dark Jak. ‘Stay where you are.’

He began to circle around the room, stopping when he was directly in front of the corridor between the bunk beds. Jak’s head had been turning to follow him, like a cat’s… and the moment he paused, the other was in the air, leaping forwards with a snarl to slash at the other.

Whatever Torn had intended to do with the knife, he didn’t use it; instead he merely ducked away, not quite fast enough to prevent the claws from scoring a line down his cheek, and kept stumbling backwards until his back pressed up against the wall beside the hanging zoomer.

Daxter darted in between them, hands raised as he faced Jak. ‘Stop, buddy, stop!’ he pleaded shrilly. ‘It’s Torn, remember? He’s on our side! Jak! Come on, big guy!’

‘Get out of the way, rat,’ growled Torn. ‘I’ll only warn you once.’

Daxter ignored him completely, taking a step towards Jak instead. ‘Jak, come back,’ he said, trying to meet his best friend’s eyes as Jak growled and crouched low in preparation to spring. ‘We gotta find a way home, remember?’

Torn slid a hand underneath one of the posters hanging on the wall, and pressed.

Suddenly the ground beneath Jak’s feet gave way. Daxter yelped in surprise, hurling himself backwards just in time to keep from falling as well as Jak vanished into the hole that had suddenly appeared below him, smears of violet energy remaining in the air for a few seconds until Torn pressed something again and the floor returned.

The ottsel found himself alone in the room with the underground leader, both of them breathing hard. For once, Daxter was temporarily lost for words, though he regained them quickly enough.

‘Wh-whah,’ he said. ‘Where’d he go? What did you do?’

A snarl briefly vibrated the floor beneath their feet. Torn peeled himself away from the wall, one hand pressed against his cheek as blood trailed down his face. ‘Trap door,’ he said, kneeling briefly to inspect the deep claw marks in the bottom of the desk. ‘In case of unwanted guests.’ With a grunt, he turned the desk upright again, and then turned to face Daxter. ‘There’s nothing lethal down there so you can wipe that look off your face, rat,’ he said. ‘I’ll open it again when he cools down.’

‘So he’s okay?’ said Daxter.

Another yell from below, a little more hoarse than before.

‘Depends how you define ‘okay’,’ said Torn. ‘Does this happen often?’

‘No,’ said Daxter, shaking his head vehemently. ‘This is the first time it’s happened like this… I mean, he’s pulled out tall, dark and gruesome before, but usually he’s got control of when it happens, y’know? I’d never seen it slip before today.’

They both stood in silence for a minute, listening to the intermittent sounds of movement from below the floor. Torn sat down on the end of the desk, and eventually Daxter sat down on the floor, legs splayed out in front of him as he stared down at the ground.

‘How long does this normally last?’ Torn asked at last.

‘Til he runs outta eco,’ said Daxter. ‘Sometimes he burns it off real fast but… I dunno if he’s got the focus for the kinda moves that do that if he’s like this.’

‘The Baron’s dark weapon at work,’ said Torn grimly, and Daxter looked up at him sharply.

‘You know about that?’

‘The whole city knows about it,’ said Torn, with a snort. ‘He was building up a storm of publicity while the project was going on; even though I’d left the Guard already, I could hardly have missed it. After meeting you two and hearing from Kor about what happened during your first meeting, it’s not so hard to put things together.’

Daxter’s brows lowered. ‘So, wait, you knew about it? And you still pushed Jak like that? This IS all your fault!’

Torn grunted and had the decency to look away. ‘I let my temper run away from me a little there,’ he admitted, then looked back. ‘Though the fact remains that the two of you made a royal mess out of that mission today, and it could have been avoided. I’ve still got to set a few things straight with the two of you, as soon as Jak comes back to his senses.’

Once he’d stopped speaking, the two of them both became aware of the silence pervading the underground hideout, and both looked down at the floor simultaneously.

‘Do you think--’ Daxter began, but Torn was already moving, sliding to his feet and heading back towards the wall to hit the same lever as before.

‘Jak?’ called Daxter, running immediately to the hole to peer down there. ‘Buddy? Can you hear me?’

Torn gathered up a bundle of rope and headed towards the hole, kneeling down as a faint, strained voice made its way back up to them.

‘Yeah,’ said Jak, shakily. ‘Where am I…?’ Daxter kneeled suddenly where he’d been standing on the floor, limp with relief.

‘Inside the underground’s door trap,’ said Torn, starting to unspool some of the rope and dropping an end into the hole. ‘Thanks for the help testing it out, it hasn’t seen any use in awhile now.’

The rope went taut in Torn’s hand as it was grabbed from the other end. It was too dark inside the trap for Daxter to see down; logically he knew Jak must have gone back to normal because he was speaking and he never spoke while he was transformed, but there still remained a faint seed of unease deep inside him until Jak reached the top of the rope and the dim light fell upon his green-and-yellow hair.

Jak put his hands on the floor and heaved himself the rest of the way out of the hole with shaking arms, pulling himself just far enough out of the hole to curl his legs under himself, and then he bent forwards to rest his forehead on the ground.

‘You back to normal, kid?’ grunted Torn, coiling the rest of the rope over his arms as he pulled it out of the hole.

‘Y-yeah,’ Jak gasped out, still shaking.

‘Might wanna move your legs a little further, then,’ said Torn. As Jak did so, the underground leader strode back to the wall near the zoomer and pressed the same spot again, causing the floor to snap back into place.

Daxter cautiously spread a foot over the now barely-visible crack, testing it out. ‘Huh,’ he said. ‘Feels... solid. Who set this up?’

‘I did,’ said Torn. He hooked the coil of rope onto the wall and then stood with his hands folded over his chest for a moment, viewing the two others. Then he unfolded himself, headed to one of the bunks, and grabbed a blanket to pass to Jak.

The teen flinched as Torn stepped near, but looked up from his shivering huddle as the coarse but soft fabric was draped over his shoulders. His fingers curled onto it briefly, and then he sat up, blinking and looking up.

‘You okay?’ asked Torn, who’d walked back to resume his previous position by the desk, apparently unperturbed by the general mess of strewn papers and mugs surrounding him on the floor.

‘I, uh… better,’ said Jak cautiously, moving his legs to sit cross-legged on the floor and tugging at the blanket to keep it on his shoulders. He looked down at his hands. ‘Sorry.’

‘You can apologize by talking,’ said Torn. ‘There’s a lot we need to clear up here. First off: there isn’t going to be a repeat performance, is there?’

Jak shook his head. ‘No more eco,’ he said, his voice echoing the relief that was painted across Daxter’s face.

‘All right,’ said Torn, and straightened up again-- this time he was noticeably stiffer rising up, and he raised a hand to gingerly touch the now-tacky blood on his cheek. ‘Take a breather for a minute, though, I’ve got some cleanup to do.’ He looked down at them. ‘Do you two like hot chocolate?’

Jak’s face remained blank, not even processing the question at first, while Daxter’s head tilted to the side. ‘Are you… offering it?’ said Jak after a moment.

‘You drink hot chocolate?’ said Daxter without missing a beat, raising a hand to point at Torn.

‘Not me, idiots,’ snapped Torn. ‘We keep a stash for the kid. Do you want some or not?’

‘Ehh yeah of course,’ said Daxter. ‘Love the stuff. Right Jak?’

Jak blinked and nodded slowly; Torn rolled his eyes in exasperation and headed towards the door to the side room.

As soon as he was gone, Jak curled his head in towards his chest with a groan; Daxter moved round to be in front of him, raising his head up again.

‘Hey! Don’t go all droopy on me now-- look, things are gonna be all right! He’s even bringing us hot chocolate!’

‘This was a disaster, Dax,’ Jak mumbled. ‘We shouldn’t have come here.’

‘What, you’d rather be bundled away back to the Baron’s palace right now after picking a fight with the Guard? C’mon, Jak, you’re smarter than that. Torn at least is on our team.’

‘You mean we’re on his,’ said Jak. ‘Nobody in this city is on our team.’

The bitterness in those last few words took Daxter aback for a moment, then he moved forward again, back into Jak’s line of sight. ‘Buddy… maybe that’s because ya haven’t let them be,’ he said.

After Jak didn’t respond for a moment, Daxter stepped back again and clapped his hands. ‘Okay! How bout you get up off the floor before he comes back. Gotta keep up your image, remember?’

He tapped a finger to his cheek for a moment as Jak stood. ‘Well, the cocoa’ll make that difficult in a minute. But hey! Comfort where it counts, right? After this, and a good sleep, you’ll be back up to speed and fighting trim. How’s that cold doing?’

Jak reached up to touch his nose lightly. ‘...Better,’ he said, sounding surprised. ‘I forgot about it.’

‘Maybe too much eco was making it worse?’ Daxter suggested, gently chivvying Jak in the direction of the bed. ‘Definitely seems like you should avoid letting it build up too much in the future. I dunno, just throwing out ideas here.’

‘No, you might be right,’ said Jak. He sat down and lowered the blanket again, resting his elbows on his knees, then looked up sharply again as the door opened again and Torn walked in.

His face had been cleaned up so that no traces of blood remained, and he was carrying two cups of steaming dark liquid, which he handed to each of them with a stony expression and not a single word. Daxter held his up with a reverent expression for a moment before leaning his face over the surface and inhaling deeply.

‘Ahhhh, that’ll hit the spot. Been a long time, hey Jak?’

Jak frowned at his for a moment and Daxter briefly regretted his choice of words… but his expression cleared as he took a first sip and Daxter quickly followed suit, sinking down in bliss beside his friend.

 

 


End file.
